


Chains

by Almost_Star_Struck



Category: BioShock
Genre: Gen, Master/Servant, Mind Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-14 23:33:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4584441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Almost_Star_Struck/pseuds/Almost_Star_Struck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fontaine has won and Jack is his slave.</p><p>Not Betaed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chains

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this like 4 years ago for DA and then Y!Gal.

"Pour me a drink,  **would you kindly.** "  
  
It was never a question,  _always_  a command.  
  
Jack's hands shook as he poured the whiskey into the shot glass and handed it to the bald man sitting casually at his desk. Frank Fontaine grinned and took it, "It's a good thing I got you before the Kraut did, right  _boyo?_ " he said, temporarily switching to his false Irish accent as he downed the glass, shaking his head vigorously and smirking. "You know she would have killed you. You murdered too many of her little monsters for her to give a shit about you."  
  
Holding his cigar in his free hand, Fontaine blew a puff of smoke in Jack's face. "Let's face it, Jackie boy. You're better off just being a slave for the rest of your life. Hell, I could have killed you...probably should, but I don't know."  
  
He tapped his finger against his chin, "I think I just really like the idea of having my worst enemy's only child as my permanent personal dog." He chuckled as he saw Jack snarl from across the desk, the larger man's frame tensing in anger.  
  
"Oh don't be like that. Would you really rather be dead right now? Another random corpse for a Little Sister to collect from?" Fontaine sighed, closing his eyes for a moment as he smoked. "Now massage my feet,  **would you kindly.** "  
  
He kicked his legs up onto the desk and Jack gritted his teeth as his body moved of its own accord. slipping off the older man's black leather shoes, he started on the left foot, his eyes glaring hard at Fontaine the entire time.  
  
Fontaine stuck his cigar between his teeth and laughed, "It's almost fun to watch you struggle against it, but there's no way out, kid. You were designed for servitude. That's your only purpose in life. You never had free will so stop fooling yourself. You wouldn't have even known I was controlling you if it wasn't for Ryan, the sonofabitch."  
  
He shook his head, folding his hands back behind his neck. "Hell, I bet if I was still Atlas you wouldn't be complaining. You followed me like some goddamn puppy. So pathetic...did you really think you had a friend down in this hellhole? Answer, **would you kindly.** "  
  
Jack's jaw unclenched and he hissed, "I did...I thought Atlas...was my only friend. That's why I trusted him..." He lowered his head as Fontaine let out a roar of laughter. "You are nothing like your father, kid...stupid and so willing to believe whatever someone says so long as they occasionally throw you a scrap of human affection. That's the thing that Suchong told me he couldn't remove from you. I remember when you found that little abandoned puppy and brought it to him in the lab."  
  
He pulled the cigar from his mouth and tipped the ashes onto Jack's head.  
  
"You were...I think 5 months along then. Looked like a ten year old already though. You brought that little puppy in and handed it to the doc all proud-like. Then he gave you the order to kill it and you fought  _so_  hard against it." Jack moved to Fontaine's right foot and looked down, his teeth grinding as he was forced to listen to the other man. "Oh yeah...you were crying so hard as you broke the stupid thing's neck. Suchong was disappointed. You still were too soft for an assassin and you wanted a family. Too bad all you ever got was the Kraut whore and Suchong. You used to call him 'papa' if I remember correctly." Fontaine stubbed out the last bit of his cigar and sighed, leaning back in his chair.  
  
Jack finished and put Fontaine's shoes back on slowly, tying the thin laces at the top neatly before stepping back.  
  
The bald man looked over Jack and said, "Good,  _boyo_. You're even doing things without me even asking now." He clapped his hands together and Jack clenched his fists at his sides. " **Would you kindly**  relax, kid." His hands immediately loosened as well as his tense shoulders. "Good, now  **would you kindly go** and make me dinner." Jack's feet turned his body away from the conman and started marching him down to the kitchen of the luxurious apartment.  
  
Just before Jack was far enough away, Fontatine stuck out his leg, kicking Jack square in the ass and making him stumble into the door. Fontaine roared with laughter as Jack forced himself to stand up, leaving the room with his face red from embarrassment and rage. His body was still under the order to relax though so he never once clenched his fists or gave any sign of aggression.  
  
It had been a week of serving the conman. One week of taking insults, killing off anyone new who thought they could take his place, of being reminded constantly that he had fallen for a facade, of washing the man's clothes and dishes and scrubbing his floors on his knees and being kicked in the face and-  
  
He opened the door to the kitchen and walked inside. Compared to the rest of Rapture, Fontaine was living in luxury. His apartment was spacious and didn't smell of corpses or blood. He made Jack sleep on the floor by his bed, giving him little more than a ratted blanket. Still, it beat taking catnaps behind crates and waking up whenever a splicer muttered to themselves a little too close to his hiding spot.  
  
The food was admittedly better too. He mostly just got scraps from Fontaine's plate, but it was a big step up from stale chips, expired cream cakes, and soggy pep-bars that the vending machines around the city provided.  
  
But these slight comforts...they weren't worth it. Jack watched as meat sizzled in the pan before him, flipping it occasionally. Being a slave to the man he had thought was his friend...his only ally in a city of crazy plasmid-addicts.  
  
He would rather be dead.  
  
Of course...Fontaine had already given him the order to not ever attempt suicide...or to ever try to kill him. Jack wanted so badly to reach into one of the cabinets and pull out bleach or rat poison...just dump it into the food. Fontaine would be dead before he realized what Jack had done. But every time he opened the cabinets, he could only stare longingly at the toxic chemicals before closing them again and getting back to work.  
  
About an hour later, dinner was ready so Jack put all of the plates on a tray and poured a glass of merlot before carrying it back upstairs to the dining area. Fontaine was waiting for him, reading an old paper. He saw Jack and he smiled. "You took longer than usual."  
  
Jack grunted in response. "Your stove sucks," he said simply. He often refrained from talking unless ordered to. He had learned quickly that speaking to Fontaine only gave the other man much more ammo to throw back in his face later on.  
  
"Hmmm...I'll have to have you fix it then later on." Fontaine picked up his fork and knife, "Sit down,  **would you kindly**. On the floor, yes." Jack's legs buckled under him and he sat down, his hair brushing against the underside of the table. He closed his eyes as his listened to the conman noisily eat. His own stomach was gurgling and churning as he had little more than half a banana for the duration of the day. While in the kitchen, he had been able to sneak a few carrots in the fold of his sweater, but he wouldn't be able to eat them until Fontaine went to bed or gave him some time to himself. Even then, he had to evade the security cameras mounted about the apartment.  
  
A hand touched his shoulder and Jack looked up, seeing Fontaine holding a single string bean. "You must be hungry, boyo. Why don't you ask politely for some food and I'll consider feeding you."  
  
Once again, never a question, always an order.  
  
"Would you-"  
  
_"Excuse me?"_  
  
Jack swallowed and tilted his head back up, "Please...master, would you let me have something to eat?" he forced, feeling what little was left of his dignity die in his chest. Fontaine sighed. "Oh  _Jackie_ , you're going to have to do better than that now. You know there are children starving all over the world. Most of them would be so grateful for even this and you're practically snubbing it."  
  
"Please...I beg of you, master. I'm so hungry!" Jack pleaded a little more desperately. Fontaine smiled and let the bean drop to the floor. "Much better. You are a quick learner, I'll give you that, kid." Jack reached out and was about to grab the bean, but the heel of Fontaine's shoe smashed hard into the back of his hand. Jack howled in pain and retracted his hand as soon as the conman released it. Jack held it to his chest and whimpered in pain. Frank shook his head and said, "Dogs don't use their paws to eat, Jackie. I thought you knew this."  
  
He rolled his eyes and went back to his meal. Jack nodded and slowly leaned his head forward, picking up the string bean with his teeth and then swallowing it whole. It was barely anything, but his stomach rejoiced for it nonetheless.  
  
When Fontaine finished, he stood and said, "Go clean the dishes,  **would you kindly**. Then fix the stove." He straightened his lapel and walked out of the room. Jack slowly stood, looking down at his bruised hand. It didn't feel broken, but it still throbbed like a bitch. He gritted his teeth and grabbed the tray with both hands, picking it up and bring it back into the kitchen. Washing the dishes didn't take long and the hot water on the back of his injured hand was soothing. His body didn't stop until everything was perfectly clean. He sighed and leaned back against the sink, taking out a few of the baby carrots he had smuggled and chewed quickly, not wanting Frank to walk by the kitchen and hear him chomping away.  
  
Swallowing, he sighed, his stomach still unsatisfied. He rubbed it for a moment to try to sooth the tense muscle before his body stiffened and walked over to the stove. It took him about an hour to find out what was wrong with the stove and another 30 minutes to fix it. He walked out of the kitchen, rubbing his bruised hand as he went. He heard the radio on upstairs so he headed there, knowing that if he took too long that Fontaine would punish him.  
  
Jack stepped onto the landing and saw Fontaine was smoking casually in his armchair. He looked up at Jack and raised his chin, "Fix the stove?" Jack nodded and rubbed his shoulder which was sore from accidentally banging into the machine as he tried to fix it. "Gas leak..." he muttered, looking at the plush carpet. Fontaine grinned. "Alright, I think it's time for a small reward." He stood and said, "You can take a bath tonight before bed." He snapped his fingers, "Get to it," he said, pointing toward the bathroom. "And clean up after yourself,  **would you kindly.** " Jack sighed and felt his body move toward the bathroom without any hesitation.  
  
Entering the sterile room, he found he could still hear the echoing chords of La Mer off the smooth white tile. He plugged the drain and filled the tub with steaming water before stripping off his dirty sweater and pants. He sunk into the water, cringing at first before groaning in relief. He reached for the soap and began washing the blood and grime off his body that had accumulated over the past two weeks he had spent in this underwater prison called Rapture.  
  
The clean water quickly turned a dingy brown around him as he scrubbed and he began to wash out his thick brown hair. He felt much lighter and slightly happier with all the grime off, but he knew this was Fontaine messing with him. He'd give him small rewards and get him hooked on the 'luxury' that living here brought him. Then he'd humiliate him once again and make him beg Fontaine to let him stay and be his slave. Fontaine loved being able to control him...but to do so without having to rely on the trigger phrase would be truly an accomplishment. Shaking his head, Jack dunked his head under the water.  
  
Pulling back up, Jack exhaled and stopped, taking his hands away from his hair. His eyes scanned his wrists, seeing the thick black chain tattoos running across them. Just looking at them made his wrists feel heavy and he knew...he knew that the tattoos had been a request of Fontaine's so that he could never ignore the fact that he had no free will.  
  
"A man chooses...a  _slave_  obeys..." he murmured before hugging himself into a tight ball in the water. He squeezed his eyes shut as his body shook slowly, La Mer's final chorus ending to leave the bathroom in complete silence save for Jack's shuddering sobs.


End file.
